


Friend

by KingpinCobblepot (Theonlylucysaxon)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Complexity of DID, Ed coping with Riddler, M/M, Mostly Ed, Real Dark, TW Suicide mention, TW mental illness, Very light talk of Oswald, s'dark people, tw abuse, tw child abuse, tw self harm mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 00:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18560689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theonlylucysaxon/pseuds/KingpinCobblepot
Summary: Edward Nygma has always had the Riddler around. Before he had the name Riddler. Before he even knew what he was. And through everything, he and the Riddler have had one another. Just my personal rambling look at the inner workings of the dynamic inside of Ed.





	Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Beware my tags loves. I don't want to trigger anyone. Stay safe <3

When they were a child, a counselor had told Edward he was an imaginary friend. No more than six years old, bearing more daily abuse than anyone knew-- and those unaware of the circumstances all agreed. His teachers. The counselor. The principal. His actions of disinterest in socialization with other children, his insistence there was another person in places where there just wasn’t. It was a phase. Little Eddie would outgrow him when given time. If only he would outgrow the reach of his father’s belt as easily as they said he would outgrow the only friend he had. 

 

He was mean to him. 

 

Eddie never told them that. His friend. The one who looked like him to every descriptive adjective his six year old brain had-- The one who was him, but also wasn’t. The kid who was there, but then really never was. He was mean. But not in a way that Eddie couldn’t take. His father had ensured that. Verbal abuses could be tolerated by the scores by the kid who thought he was worthless and could find attachment in any attention he received. Especially when it was attention that didn’t physically harm him. So was the low bar set by the man who raised him. 

 

Perhaps if someone had known the truth, they’d have told him earlier. If everyone had been aware of what it was that was happening to him and who his little friend was, then maybe just maybe someone could have helped. If they knew he was a stronger version of that poor little scared Eddie. If they knew he was there, constantly making him be stronger, tormenting him with his weakness and ultimately always being successful in ensuring he endured and survived all of it. The beatings. The abuse. The nights his father would come home drunk and use his son as a human ashtray. The daily reminders of his lack of worth or meaning or purpose. Most kids wouldn’t have survived a childhood like his… In adulthood, Ed knew this. But unfortunately, for a long time he forgot the one who helped him. 

 

He was ten, well eleven, had just turned eleven... Three days after his birthday in fact… Just on that cusp of puberty when a pretty girl was enough to make the world stop. A pretty boy too, but then both he and his friend refused to let himself think such things. For as strong as the other was, even he was afraid of those implications as he cowered right along side Eddie in that closet of theirs. 

 

But gosh, did they notice girls. 

 

Especially smart ones. He would say he didn’t remember her name now. That was a lie. But maybe it was a lie born of the fact he wanted it to be true so badly that it was sort of fabricated into existence. The lie was almost real. The truth was almost forgotten. Not that it mattered-- well to anyone but them. He had practiced for days how to ask her to the junior high dance. Literal days. A B+ on a test because he kept getting distracted when taking it by the way she was sitting in front of him. Right in front of him. Well, one row over and three seats up… But basically right there. And she was so pretty. And he just wanted to hold her hand so much as was the way of young love. His practice and consideration culminated in him starting their conversation with a riddle, which she chose no to answer and he of course gave her the answer to, demonstrating just how clever he was and no doubt impressing her. Then he asked if she was going to the dance with someone. She said no. He could feel them both beaming. The other was filled with confidence Eddie couldn’t quite tap into but it didn’t matter. She was smiling at him. She was probably going to say yes to him. To them. 

 

He barely finished the question before she laughed at him. 

 

He was a freak. A loser. A stalker. Creepy. Weird. Pathetic. 

 

Her friends joined in the laughter and it was somehow deafeningly loud.

 

Children are often cited as being cruel, but perhaps what is often neglected to be pointed out is just why that cruelty hurts so much. Because at age eleven, Ed was ill equipped to deal with the emotions he was being handed in a beautifully packaged gift of pure torment. Rejection, mockery, humiliation, hurt… It stung him and his tears welled in his eyes as he ran away. But then… Then as he was hurt, his friend-- the other, was just angry. How dare she. How dare she hurt them. How dare she humiliate them. For everything Edward lacked in the notion of self worth, the other had in spades. No one else in the world might care about Edward, but his imaginary friend did. And so it was with him in mind that they sneaked into the school and Edward filled her locker with mud. Freshly harvested mud. Thick and claybased to ensure it would stain her things and wet enough that when the door opened, it would spill out and cover her. Then who would be humiliated? Then who would be LAUGHABLE? 

 

He was so proud. 

 

They were so proud. 

 

A perfect plan.

 

Someone though, who Eddie was so certain hadn’t been him and so had to have been his friend, added wet cement into their mixture. The girl sustained major chemical burns when the mud covered her. Her face was permanently scarred. 

 

_ Now whose pathetic. _ _ _

A familiar voice in his head had echoed when his teacher told him what had happened and he was getting a severe lecture and a major suspension. He tried to defend himself. Even if the other had said he wanted this,  Eddie hadn’t! He hadn’t wanted to hurt her. Only make people laugh at her like she made them laugh at him. He wanted it to be fair. That’s all! He just wanted things to be FAIR!

 

_ Life isn’t fair. _

 

Ed flinched a little as that was his father’s voice in his head this time. He told the principal it had been his friend. His imaginary friend. Not him. Never him. He wouldn’t do this! He didn’t want to hurt anyone. 

 

She had told him he was too old for such nonsense and needed to grow up. The other wasn’t real, and they both knew that. It was time Edward stopped using excuses and took responsibility for his own actions. It was time he stopped  _ lying _ . 

 

She couldn’t have known. 

 

His father’s recurring accusations of cheating. Of lying. How his son was such a damned disappointment and a moron. How could he ever do well on those tests? How could he ever succeed? How could he win a puzzle contest? That riddle book both he and his friend-- especially his friend-- had loved so much tossed in the fireplace as his father took off his belt and told Eddie to lean over the couch. She couldn’t have known it was his rallying cry. Or that the tears the boy-- because he was still just a boy, barely eleven-- was now crying were from so much more than getting caught. 

 

That was the day he started ignoring his friend. He hated him. He had made Ed into a liar and he wasn’t a liar! He stopped looking at him if he saw him. He stopped listening to him when he was around. He started hurting himself sometimes when he could hear the other’s voice lurking on the edge of his subconscious, desperate to berate him. It wasn’t healthy. But it worked. Eventually, he was almost completely quiet. 

 

_ Almost. _

 

Years passed. He finished junior high, and high school, and college. He got a car. A job. An apartment. He carved out a little life for himself that was pathetic and mundane, but in the moments when he wasn’t bored, he wasn’t wholly miserable. A girl had been the thing which lead to the other being locked away in Ed’s mind, and it was within this quiet, ineffectual life of his that a girl would be the thing to awaken him. Miss Kristen Kringle was perfect. None the least of which because she hated Edward and that was a trait they had in common. On some level, he thought if he could earn her love for him then maybe he could earn his own. She was special and beautiful. Edward loved her. 

 

The other loved what he got to do for her. 

 

Ed was there when they were stabbing Dougherty, but he wasn’t the one savoring it. That feeling. Knife in flesh. God he had fantasized about it. Ed wouldn’t admit that. No, this was a one time thing. This was for Kristen. This man deserved it. Oh who was he kidding? They shared a body. They shared everything most of the time, and he knew. He knew Ed knew. The way the blood trickled down his hand. The knife. In and out. The grip of it. It felt so light and almost like an extension of him. Of them. Of their power and their control. He wanted to open the buffon up, sternum to pelvis. Reach elbow deep into his body and see how warm that felt. Find out what a still beating heart felt like. Would he be so lucky? Would it still be thudding along in panic, not yet aware of the fact his body was doomed?

 

He’d never know. 

 

Ed wouldn’t let him. 

 

They were a good person.

 

They didn’t do that. 

 

This was all just about keeping Kristen safe. He allowed it. He was back. That was all that mattered. Little Eddie had grown up, and finally grown into accepting him. That domancy was difficult, but it was worth it. So much better than chemical burns in the literal face of rejection. This man had thought Edward weaker than him, and the other had taken the delicious pleasure of showing him while Edward might be, he was not. After that, he got out more. He knew Ed didn’t want him to. He didn’t care. He had killed a man so Edward could have a shot with a girl, he had earned his right to a little freedom. Plus, whether Ed admitted it or not, he kind of liked it. They both knew he did. A stronger version of him, keeping him in check. He needed it sometimes. 

 

They were an adult now. He wasn’t an imaginary friend. He wasn’t a cry for attention. He wasn’t a lie to get out of trouble. He wasn’t a split personality of Edwards. He was another person. A fully formed consciousness within Edward’s consciousness. Perhaps born from the fact young Eddie had no one who cared and felt too weak to even begin to keep himself safe. But Edward wasn’t a child anymore, and they weren’t just a protector. They were a part of him, and he was a part of them and together they were two people who needed one another as much as they needed themselves. 

 

The name came later. 

 

Much later. 

 

Kristen had to go first. Had to be taken care of. A shame, but a necessity. 

Still no name yet. 

 

Oswald happened before the name. Yes. Happened. How else could one describe the hurricane Cobblepot that came sweeping through Ed’s life. It started perfectly. Fate as Ed called it, while his other self merely saw a great deal of convenience and opportunity. Yes he was an opportunity. Oswald could be incredibly useful. He would be useful. In fact, they would most definitely use him. Ed sputtered on, waxing about his need for a mentor and all the while, the other sat inside Ed’s mind, smirking about the things he wanted to show Oswald. The things he wanted Oswald to show him. His collection of victims might not have been wildly impressive, but of course how could the notorious Penguin help but see the brilliance and potential of their abilities. He would see it. He would know. 

 

But then he didn’t. Not really. Not at first. It was frustrating. For both of them, but especially the other who had gone to great lengths to secure a victim just for the Penguin, just to prove his worthiness. In the end it worked though. Once again, his persistence paid off and they were rewarded with friendship. Oswald was the best thing that had ever happened to Ed’s other self and inarguably the worst that ever happened to Ed. He wrecked him. Took something between them that was sincere, affectionate even, a friendship that was real… And destroyed it. 

 

Oswald didn’t come to them. He wasn’t met. He wasn’t discovered. He wasn’t introduced. 

 

He happened. Like a natural disaster that there is never really a way to go back from. The before is always just that, before. It’s not something that is ever achievable again. It was gone. There was only after him, and in his wake, he had left Ed stronger and weaker all at once. Turmoil turned way of life. He was born a new. And he was born into a skin which no longer loathed his long term partner in things. No, he now realized he could trust no one like he trusted himself and so they named him. 

 

The Riddler. 

 

Born of betrayal, soaked in ego, and flourishing in the criminality that they once were too “good” to entertain ideas of. Here they were. Arrived. And they were brilliant. Feared. Respected. Things happened. The way Oswald did. They found in embracing who they were, everything just sort of became intense in a way that neither was prepared for. Arkham. Out of Arkham. Into Arkham-- almost. Lee Thompkins. Suicide. Things spiraling in a life where they fought always, but neither Ed nor the Riddler ever really hated the other or wanted to lose him. They needed each other. They belonged to one another, in a way no one could ever really understand who wasn’t like them. Who didn’t share their burden. Who didn’t share their gift. Their reality. Their life. 

 

Then one day chaos came to the city, and in the end, to everyone else it was the night the bridges blew but to Edward Nygma and the Riddler, it was the night everything changed. Someone else got inside their head. Someone else affected them. Controlled them. Gained power over them. Both would never cease the bitterness over it. Seeking for answers. Not understanding what was being done to them. Then Haven. Even the Riddler was angry about Haven. Because it hadn’t been HIS choice. He deserved that choice. Always. Destruction, death-- he was happy to create these things but he demanded they be HIS decision. Someone took that away from them and it had been perhaps the worst thing to ever be done. It was tied to Oswald of course. He wasn’t to blame, but then he was a part of it. He had saved them sure. They should be grateful maybe. But there was so much bitterness and resentment… Gratitude got lost along the way. 

 

Eventually they moved past it. 

 

Fixing Ed was part of it. A plan to escape contributed. But in the end, there was a strange symmetry to be found between them. They suited one another. Edward, the Riddler, and Oswald. A nice neat little arrangement. Friendship-- or something like it. It was nice. The Riddler risked himself to go back to the chaos because of it. Oswald lost an eye in the name of it. And in the end all three men likely knew that the safest bet in this life was to just kill the other. Then and there. Well, except maybe Edward. Edward saw Oswald as important. As a real friend. And with everything they had been through, Edward had mostly retreated, allowing the Riddler full control. 

 

He could do it. Stab Oswald. Get rid of Ed maybe for good by doing so, because after all, the Riddler’s strength came from Ed being too horrified at the things he pushed them to do. He could be born anew. Ed was hiding inside him. Dormant as the Riddler had once been-- had been more than once over. And now the Riddler could help ensure that if he just… 

 

It was nothing personal. 

 

He liked Oswald. But in the name of all he wanted to be, of all he could become.

 

Oswald was a hindrance. One he couldn’t afford. The knife felt just right in his hand. That perfect amount of weight. That oh so exquisite heft of steel. What would Oswald’s face do in the moment of realization. His eyes had always been so expressive and even if he only had once, certainly it would be beautifully wide and sparkling with fear. He would cry perhaps. A single tear or a gush of emotion. Would he feel the pain everywhere? Would his blood trickle over the Riddler’s hand as Tom Dougherty’s had done all those years ago? Would the Riddler see the moment in Oswald’s eyes when his very heart stopped. 

 

Now was his chance. 

 

Ed wasn’t incontrol. 

 

Almost wasn’t. 

 

He just couldn’t. The hug that had started as a pretense when Oswald waxed poetical on the idea of their closeness. Whatever load of lies it was that dripped from his tongue in Oswald’s ever efficient quest to always be somehow slime-ily deceptive and surprising effective, still hung in the air around them with the embrace. But they just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. Ed wouldn’t let them do it. 

 

No matter what had happened or might happen.

 

Edward Nygma had two people in the world who had ever cared about him. 

 

Oswald Cobblepot was lucky enough to be one of them. 

 

The other, was the one who was always there, his imaginary friend. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Please let me know in comments and kudos as they do indeed sustain me.


End file.
